Robins Matinee


THERE come to my window sometimes to my door 

Two dear robin red-breasts, each morning, at four; 

They sit in the elm tree, with fluttering wing, 

And, hid in the branches, they merrily sing. 

They have black-banded surplice, with note-books 

between,

Made of whispering leaves, and their covers so green; 

They have galleries, too, and a high architrave, 

A choir-loft, and aisles, with a pulpit and nave. 

Their windows are Gothic, of sunniest hues, 

Glazed, curtained, and washed with the purest of dews. 

Perched close together, so lovingly there, 

Responding in anthem, and chanting, and prayer, 

I love every strain that our birdies prolong, 

For God and his angels delight in their song. 

One morning I woke with the light at my door; 

My robins were there; it was just striking four! 

How quickly they sang to me! Note after note 

Poured silvery streams from the quick-throbbing throat 

Now abrupt, then a chirp, now a pert, funny twirl, 

Like the full, ringing laugh of a musical girl; 

Now cadences deep, then a trill; and the strain 

Repeats all in octaves, again and again, 

Till nature, responsive, from hillside and lawn, 

Awakes at the notes of the robins at morn. 

The day-star hangs low on the brow of the hill, 

Afar in the wood moans the sad whippoorwill, 

The herds are home-coming, at ease, through the grass, 

And cozily browsing the flowers as they pass, 

The watch-dog is rousing the house with his bark, 

The dairy-maid springs to her toil with the lark, 

The crickets are chirping, close by on the bough, 

There is croaking for rain, though it rained but just now; 

The sweetest, and purest, most welcome of all, 

My own matinee robins still warble their call. 

They have opened a church in the old elm tree, 

And are preaching true sermons of duty to me. 

The dawn-light may greet me for many a day, 

The dust-flake and heat-drop be thick in my way, 

My heart may grow sad as I journey along, 

My roof-tree be leafless, all silent its song, 

But oft shall I think of the window and door 

Where my pet robins caroled each morning at four.



Little Corporal.



 

 

 





AN EDUCATED ROBIN.


 


 


THE most remarkable instance that I ever


remember to have met with of a young pupil's


not only imitating, but far surpassing his tutor,


was related to me by an English gentleman


who owned a large aviary, numbering no less


than three hundred and sixty-six inhabitants,


all first-rate songsters;


and his fame as an amateur was widespread.


Among the multitude of his visitors was a


friend who informed him that a relative of his


was possessed of a most wonderful bird that


he should much like to have him see and hear.


He took the address, and went at an early day


to visit the prodigy. On entering the house


referred to, and presenting his card, he was at


once ushered into a drawing-room. He there


saw two cages—nightingale


cages—suspended on the wall. One of them,


with a nightingale in it, had an open front; the


other had a green curtain drawn down over the


front, concealing the inmate.


After a little conversation on ornithology, the


host asked him if he should like to hear one of


his nightingales sing. Of course he was all


expectation.


Placing him beneath the cage, and drawing


up the curtain before alluded to, the bird


above, at a whistle from his master, broke out


in a succession of strains that he never heard


surpassed by any nightingale.


The rapid utterance of the bird, his perfect


abandon to the inspiration of his music, and


indifference to all around him, caused the


gentleman to involuntary exclaim, with


Coleridge:—


"That strain again!


Full fain it would delay me."


And so it did the rapt listener. He stood riveted


to the spot, knowing how seldom nightingales


in a cage so deport themselves.


After listening some time, and expressing his


astonishment at the long-repeated efforts of


the performer, so unusual, he asked to be


allowed a sight of him. Permission was


granted; the curtain


was raised, and he saw before him—a robin.


This bird had been brought up under the


nightingale from its earliest infancy, and not


only equaled, but very far surpassed, its


master in song.  Indeed, he put him down and


silenced him altogether.


In this case, the robin retained not one single


note of his own, whereby the finest ear could


detect him.


 


 


G. B. G., in Golden Days.









 




Robins


 


MR. TROUVELOT, of Medford, Mass., being


 engaged in raising silk-worms for the


production of silk, had abundant reason to


 notice and remember what kind of food our


 American robin redbreast prefers.


His enclosure of seven or eight acres, where


 the worms were fed, was covered with netting


 to protect them; b ut birds would occasionally

 

break in, and of these there were at least ten


 robins, he said,


to one of any other kind. It was the season of


small fruits, and huckleberries abounded in the


fields close by; but when he opened the crop of


each robin killed in his enclosure, he found


nothing at all but insects.


To test their destructiveness in this direction


still further, he exposed a thousand of his silk-


worms on a scrub-oak, which he caused to be


watched. In three or four days the worms were


all gone. The robins, with some help from the


cat-birds, had eaten them every one. Mr:


Trouvelot, though a loser himself, gave the


result of his experiment for the farmer's


benefit.


The robin belongs to the thrush family, all of


whom are enormous insect-eaters; but the


redbreast beats them all in the number of kinds


 he devours.


A son of Mr. Wilson Flagg caught three young


robins, and fed them with angle-worms and


 soaked bread. They soon died. He caught


three more, and fed them with angle-worms


 and a little fruit.


Two of these died, and then his father told him


 to give the survivor insects to eat, and a


variety of them. Accordingly, all sorts of


beetles, moths,


grubs, bugs, vine-worms, chrysalids, and


caterpillars were procured, and laid before the


 bird. He ate them all, and soon recovered his


 health. He always killed them before he


 swallowed them, and


once when a hard beetle failed to "set well" in


his crop, he threw it up, and gave it another


 thorough pounding, after which he swallowed


it again.


It has been proved that a growing young robin


requires considerably more than his own


weight of animal food every day; and during the


 season of rearing their young, the old birds


forage almost exclusively upon insects. A


 single one has been known to kill eight


hundred in one day.


Farmers and horticulturists who lose patience


with the robins, because they sometimes touch


 their cherries, strawberries, and grapes, can,


 afford to heed the advice of the naturalists


before they strike down such pretty birds. "It


 does no harm to put up scare-crows in your


trees and gardens to keep them away, but it


hardly pays to kill them."


The redbreast is not only poetically but literally


the friend of man.


 


 


Youth's Companion.


 







 

 






Robins


 


MR. TROUVELOT, of Medford, Mass., being engaged in raising silk-worms for the production of silk, had abundant reason to notice and remember what kind of food our American robin redbreast prefers. His enclosure of seven or eight acres, where the worms were fed, was covered with netting to protect them; but birds would occasionally break in, and of these there were at least ten robins, he said, to one of any other kind. It was the season of small fruits, and huckleberries abounded in the fields close by; but when he opened the crop of each robin killed in his enclosure, he found nothing at all but insects.


To test their destructiveness in this direction still further, he exposed a thousand of his silk-worms on a scrub-oak, which he caused to be watched. In three or four days the worms were all gone. The robins, with some help from the cat-birds, had eaten them every one. Mr. Trouvelot, though a loser himself, gave the result of his experiment for the farmer's benefit.


The robin belongs to the thrush family, all of whom are enormous insect-eaters; but the redbreast beats them all in the number of kinds he devours. A son of Mr. Wilson Flagg caught three young robins, and fed them with angle-worms and soaked bread. They soon died. He caught three more, and fed them with angle-worms and a little fruit. Two of these died, and then his father told him to give the survivor insects to eat, and a variety of them. Accordingly, all sorts of beetles, moths, grubs, bugs, vine-worms, chrysalids, and caterpillars were procured, and laid before the bird. He ate them all, and soon recovered his health. He always killed them before he swallowed them, and once when a hard beetle jailed to "set well" in his crop, he threw it up, and gave it another thorough pounding, after which he swallowed it again. It has been proved that a growing young robin requires considerably more than his own weight of animal food every day; and during the season of rearing their young, the old birds forage almost exclusively upon insects. A single one has been known to kill eight hundred in one day. Farmers and horticulturists who lose patience with the robins, because they sometimes touch their cherries, strawberries, and grapes, can, afford to heed the advice of the naturalists before the strike down such pretty birds. "It does no harm to put up scare-crows in your trees and gardens to keep them away, but it hardly pays to kill them."


The redbreast is not only poetically but literally the friend of man.


 


 


Youth's Companion.


 






 





Charity Birds


CHARITY AMONG BIRDS.


 


IN this city, notice was recently made of a robin that went to a house to feed one of its


young that some boys had carried off and placed in a cage allowed to hang out of doors. Thomas Prince, who resides on Carson River, above Dayton, tells of a circumstance still more singular.  He says a pair of robins had their nest on a fence near his house, while in a bush near by a pair of cat birds had built their nest. The two pair of birds hatched out their young about the same are time, and all went well for several days. Then the catbirds were seen no more, probably having been shot by some of the bee-keepers of Dayton.


The young catbirds were evidently starving. She When the robins came with a worm or other insect for their young, they always alighted on the top rail of the fence before hopping down to their nest. Each time when a robin came so, the catbirds opened their mouths, thrust up their heads, and made a great outcry. They were begging to the best of their ability for food.


The robins appeared to understand the appeal, and began feeding the hungry little cat birds. They did not do by halves what they had undertaken.  Each evening the female robin sat on her own nest, and warmed with her body her own young, while the male robin took to the nest of the catbirds.


In this way both broods were reared, the little orphans growing up as strong and lively as though they had been cared for by their own parents.  Both broods are now able to fly, and the young robins and catbirds all still flock together; but presently the latter will probably leave and take up with their own kind.


 


Selected.